Somewhere
by Whilom
Summary: Songfic. Murtagh struggling through his captivity, mentally and physically.


**Disclaimer:** Paolini's work, not mine. Also, song is by Within Temptation.

**A/N: **I like to move it, move it. You want review it, review it. Okay, weird song, but anyway...you get the point. Constructive criticism, peoples!

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Murtagh groaned and retched. It had been worse this time. It always was worse. He should know that by now. He was old enough to know that it was always worse. But it was different. Galbatorix had summoned him, had supped with him, and then had offered him what the tyrant thought was freedom. Instead it was enslavement. He would never willingly do the tyrant's bidding despite the prizes Galbatorix dangled in front of him.

But it was growing harder to resist and still retain the semblance of what he was. Tornac, mentor and surrogate father, was stripped from him and he was given bare quarters, no freedom, and little to eat. Perhaps that was why he had vomited after the sumptuous meal. But Murtagh suspected it was more than that. There had been something in that atmosphere that clouded one's mind. It still clung like a haze.

He couldn't see anything in the utter blackness of his new quarters but he suspected that it was more of a cell than a room. No window broke the monotony of the stone walls that he could sense, but he dragged his fingers across them just in case. After a while of pacing in the dark, his fingers became so numb with cold that he couldn't feel the door if he passed it and the cell felt even more like a trap that he was lost in. Panic rose in the back of his throat. He didn't dare leave the wall even to search for a blanket on the floor. Struggling against the screams filling his lungs, he sank to the ground and pulled himself into a ball, shutting his eyes to the darkness outside him. Unbeknownst to him, Galbatorix sat in his throne room, attentive. When Murtagh began screaming, a smile split his face.

_Lost in the darkness_

_Hoping for a sign_

_Instead there's only darkness_

_Can't you hear my screams?_

It seemed like an eternity in the dark hole that had been Murtagh's home for a week. Not even rats skittered across the floor—there was no opening in the room large enough for them. Instead small insects crawled toward Murtagh as a rare source of warmth. After a few days he had stopped swatting at them and instead lay there listlessly, his eyes always half open in a corpse-like state, his breaths shallow. He had never lost all hope before. It had been faint for most of his life, but it was always present in some small way. He had, as a boy, been able to charm his way out of punishments by withdrawing to a make-believe world. Always some good happened in his imagination that left his reality a little brighter. But now he had lost himself in the surrounding darkness. He didn't even move when the door opened for the first time in his imprisonment and half a loaf of bread was tossed at him, followed by a bucket of water that was set inside the door. Galbatorix wanted him to wash and then be presented in the throne room. Slowly, he pushed himself to his knees and crawled to the water, scooping it up with one hand and drinking a third of it before he splashed some on his face and turned to the bread.

In a moment a guard came to retrieve him. Galbatorix surveyed him with gleaming eyes and with a gracious gesture invited him to sit in the chair across the long polished table. This time no food was set before him; it was different. But as the doors closed behind him, he knew this time it would be worse. It was always worse.

_Never stop hoping_

_Until you know where you are_

_But one thing's for sure_

_You're always in my heart_

In his dreams Murtagh saw boys of different ages in different settings, but all with dark hair and wise eyes, all him. They called out, running and laughing, or brooded in the settling quiet just before dusk. The scenes were his memories but he hardly recognized them anymore and he struggled at night, trying to grasp in his semi-consciousness exactly who he had been as a boy. Perhaps it would give him a key to who he was now. He watched each night as his past folded out before him with an avid interest as though seeing each memory for the first time.

When a month had passed, the tyrant pressed his claws farther into Murtagh's mind, probing to the point of danger for the younger man. Each meeting ended with Murtagh waking in his cell, in the dark, and watching his hallucinations of the dark-haired boy dance and reel and scream with pain from the crimson stain running across his back. Murtagh pulled into himself, curling his arms around his chest and feeling his shuddering breaths fog against his skin from the freezing cold. Bread still came only once a week and the water came every other day; it became harder and harder to wake from his dreams when the guard came to retrieve him and he was often doused from the bucket.

_I'll find you somewhere_

_I'll keep on trying_

_Until my dying day_

_I just need to know_

_Whatever has happened?_

_The truth will free my soul_

Galbatorix surveyed Murtagh as he shook before him, kneeling because he was too weak to stand, water dripping from his hair because of the guard's drenching. It was cold even in the throne room so that through the strands of hair in his eyes Murtagh could see his breath. The king could as well and smirked, wrapped in a bearskin. "You lack training, Murtagh. You need exercise. Your body is becoming weak, I can see." He nodded to the guard who stripped off Murtagh's wet tunic and jerked his head back by his hair so Galbatorix could inspect him. The king rose and paced around him, critically making notes on his young prisoner's condition, and then turned to the guard. "Feed him more often. And see that he moves about in the courtyard."

The guard bowed and began to haul Murtagh to his feet but Murtagh rallied some of his strength and said in a rasping voice, "A blanket. Please, some warmth…my lord."

The glee on Galbatorix's face was unmistakable. "My lord….?" he prompted.

Murtagh bowed his head, swallowing past the lump the words formed in his throat. "My lord king."

His wish was given to him, but at what cost? Murtagh wondered as he stumbled to his cell. Before his imprisonment he would never have thought he could sink so low. Now he hated to ponder what would happen to him another month from now, with the king's attacks on his mind becoming more frequent and more painful.

That night his dreams spoke to him and he saw over and over again the boy with the bloody back crying out for help. Tears crept from Murtagh's eyes as he did everything he could to help the child who seemed so familiar. Who was that boy?

_Lost in the darkness_

_Try to find your way home_

_I want to embrace you _

_And never let you go_

_Almost like you're in heaven_

_So no one can hurt your soul_

_Living in agony_

_Cause I just did not know_

_Where you were_

He had never expected the Varden to welcome him. After all, he, Morzan's son, knew more of them than Eragon. They were a strict people and given to excessive caution, but he had still been surprised when he had been locked up in a wooden cage, large enough for a lion to prowl in, after he had been taken from his previous, comfortable quarters. Now the battle raged around him and he was trapped, caged like a beast, with fire roaring all around from the Urgals' torches and Eragon's dragon.

"Let me out!" he roared, smoke clogging his lungs and turning to grime on his face. "Let me out!" He didn't care that his knuckles and fingers were bruised and scraped from his beating on the wooden bars, or that his voice was hoarse and his head spun as he tried to catch his breath. He was lost in a cage and wanted, _needed_, to be let loose. He was always tied, always captive. Even when no one was around him, fear held him tightly. When would he ever be free?

_I'll find you somewhere_

_I'll keep on trying_

_Until my dying day_

_I just need to know_

_Whatever has happened?_

_The truth will free my soul_

Murtagh turned swiftly when an Urgal warrior swung at him. The cage door had been beaten down and Murtagh knew that if he was going to survive he would have to rely on his speed rather than his strength. He gripped the bars over his head and swung his legs to his chest, pushing his feet into his attacker. The Urgal fell through the cage's bars and Murtagh finished him. The sight that met his eyes was far from beautiful, but the lack of bars obstructing his vision nearly made him giddy. He rose unsteadily from his last blow and tried to get his bearings.

Then he ran.

Snatching up a sword from a fallen soldier, he shouldered a warrior to the ground and lifted the sword to strike. He leaped over the body and nearly tripped over something on the ground. It was a longbow. He held it in his hands almost reverently but couldn't stop to revel in how good a familiar weapon felt. One of the Varden leaders was backed against an impasse and was fighting bravely against a number of Urgals. Not stopping to think if the same would have been done to him, Murtagh armed the bow and let loose two arrows at once. He didn't count to see how many Urgals fell from his blow, or how many the Varden leader killed with his help. The brief acknowledgment that the leader gave him in his nod was enough to satisfy him for the moment. He was free—to fight alongside the Varden. He had earned some degree of their trust.

_Wherever you are _

_I won't stop searching_

_Whatever it takes me to go_

It was late and he was tired. But he had plenty of time to think. He'd been the natural choice to look after Eragon. It was almost like a self-inflicted confinement. He knew the Varden needed time to choose what to do with him after his efforts on their behalf in the battle. At least they had something to judge him by besides his father's name. Eragon wouldn't stir for hours, he knew. And he needed the time—time to pick the lock that held him in his mind and figure out who and what he was after all that had happened to him. By the time Eragon woke, everything would be alright. He would be free.

_I'll find you somewhere_

_I'll keep on trying_

_Until my dying day_

_I just need to know_

_Whatever has happened?_

_The truth will free my soul_


End file.
